


Presence

by dorkilysoulless (custodian)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author is a snarky bastard in the tags, Does that make this canon compliant?, Implied ship is implied, M/M, Wingfic, not really sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/custodian/pseuds/dorkilysoulless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Dean forgets that Cas is an angel.  Right now he's getting one hell of a reminder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presence

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for [Hellatus Prompt Fic Tuesday](http://itfeltpurefic.tumblr.com/hellatus) on my Tumblr blog. Original link with prompt is [here](http://itfeltpurefic.tumblr.com/post/91864809944/ok-so-most-wing-fic-ive-read-involves-dean-either).

Cas grabs Dean before he’s even aware of the blast. 

He isn’t gentle. He strikes the backs of Dean’s knees to make him crumple and shoves him down so hard it jars his bones. Cas blankets him with his body, one arm around Dean’s waist, and one hand covering his eyes, and then there’s a sound like a crack of thunder, nearly loud enough to beat out the roar and shock of the explosion. 

Just as suddenly, there is shelter and soft darkness.

“Cas?” he whispers, and tries to turn his head.

The sound that answers him overwhelming, inhuman, and wordless, but somehow Dean manages to get the drift: _don’t open your eyes_.

Dean is frightened, then. Not because the floor is heaving beneath them — which it is — but because Cas isn’t _Cas_ right now. Suddenly he’s Castiel, an Angel of the Lord who fights like a cornered animal and packs some pretty insane mojo under the right circumstances. 

It’s easy to forget about Castiel. Cas is…well, he’s been a fixture in his and Sam’s lives so long that sometimes the angel part gets forgotten. Or switched off — like those times Heaven cut him off, or when Metatron stole his grace — and so to be in the presence of that power is a shock.

So Dean does what he’s told. He squinches his eyes shut and tries to relax into the fact that he’s being held not just by a warm body but by something huge and impossible and electric enough to set his hair on end. 

His fingers brush up against something soft, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s touching are the feathers of Castiel’s wings. And wow, it’s…intense. 

Castiel’s feathers are the softest thing he’s ever touched, and they’re strong like spring steel. The longer he touches them, the more his nerves light up, not just in his hand or his arm, but his whole body. Dean digs his fingers in reflexively and is rewarded with the ecstasy of a billion tiny flames licking through him without consuming him.

It’s unexpectedly intimate. Somewhere deep in the black and broken parts of his memory, where the things even he can’t confront exist, Dean knows suddenly that he’s touched these wings once before. 

These wings have raised him up. These hands once made him whole again.

There’s another crack and snap, and the floor beneath them is gone. Dean kicks and thrashes on instinct, but Castiel holds him tight until there’s something new beneath him: soft grass, cool and wet with morning dew. 

Dean lands in the grass, trembling. His body aches. His eyes are still closed.

“Did I hurt you?”

Dean opens his eyes only a crack, but sees only Cas — regular, dorky Cas — looking down at him with an expression of concern. 

“Nah. I’m…I’m good.” He sits up and knows right away that there are bruises. Still, that’s better than getting blown to bits and he’s grateful. “I owe you one.”

Cas helps Dean to his face and tilts his head. “Are you—”

“Nah,” he interrupts, refusing to let Cas complete that thought. He wipes his hand across his face and regains his composure. ”It’s just smoke, or something in my eye. I mean, we did just fly out of an explosion, right?” 

“Right.” If Cas doubts him, he doesn’t say.

“We’d better go check on Sam,” Dean says, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. If someone’s trying this hard to kill them, he sure as hell doesn’t have time to be overwhelmed by a pair of wings. 

He jogs toward the Impala and Cas follows.


End file.
